


Raspberry Twisters

by crystalusagi



Series: Sherbert Lemon Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/pseuds/crystalusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus is compelled to go with Dumbledore on an errand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raspberry Twisters

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed, not perfect, and sort of fluffy. Be warned!

"Ah, Severus," Dumbledore calls from the doorway to Severus' office.  "I thought I might find you here."  He strolls into the room.  A faint jingling noise accompanies him--he is wearing the robes with the tassels and the bells attached again.  

"Headmaster," Severus responds.  He could ask ' _how can I be of service_ ', except he's certain Dumbledore will tell him even if he doesn't.  He continues to peel the shrivelfigs he is working on with his knife.  He keeps his hands steady.  

"Come now, my boy.  There must indeed exist more enjoyable things to be doing on a Saturday evening."  Dumbledore says it serenely; Severus is sure without looking at him that Dumbledore's eyes are, at this very moment, twinkling at him behind their half-moon spectacles.  

"There are, perhaps," Severus agrees, "for men who do not have NEWT level Potions to teach."  

"Perhaps," comes Dumbledore's amused voice.  "But surely you are allowed breaks."  There is a lift in the headmaster's voice that suggests a question, but Severus knows he's not actually asking one.  "You could, for example, take a little trip with me.  I have some urgent shopping I must attend to."  

No, decidedly _not_ a question.  Severus is about to protest that a shopping expedition certainly does not sound more any more enjoyable than preparing potions ingredients in his office when Dumbledore draws nearer and points his wand at Severus' hands, stained purple from shrivelfig juice.  

"Ah, here!" Dumbledore says brightly, "let me take care of that for you!" His wand scrapes across the back of both Severus' hands, and Severus almost shudders at the feel of all that power pressed to his skin.  His hands are no longer purple, although Severus notices that Dumbledore has left the old potions stains, the yellowing on his nails, around the tips of his fingers, compounded by years of carelessness.

Why should Severus keep his hands clean, when they will only be dirtied once more?

"You insist, then, that I come with you," Severus intones in a resigned voice.  Again, not really a question.  

Dumbledore's smile is serene.  "I do."  

His work-surface, he notices, is clean, the peels having been banished to the waste bin.  The shrivelfigs are sealed inside a large jar that sits on the table.  If it were a school night he could say that he has papers to finish grading, but _now_ undoubtedly Dumbledore will remind him that there is still Sunday to finish any grading.

He stands up and inclines his head in a small gesture of deference.  "I am yours to command."

Dumbledore ignores the faint hint of bitterness that Severus allows to seep into his words.   He remains as cheerful as ever, chuckles and pats Severus genially on the back.  He moves his hand but doesn't pull away, keeps it warm on Severus' shoulder.  "I think we had best be off, now, then!" he says, and then disapparates, taking Severus along with him.

 

There is a brightly painted door.  Severus is pulled through before he can read the lettering on it into an equally bright room lined with rows upon rows of humongous glass jars, each of these filled with things of various colors.  

"Hullo, sir," greets an eager-looking youth with red hair that reminds him--Severus frowns in distaste--of the Weasley brood.  "Another costume party?"  The boy is sitting behind a counter at the far end of the room, and smiles at Dumbledore the way one might smile at an old friend.   

"Quite," Dumbledore happily replies.  He immediately proceeds to one of the oversized jars and produces a pink cellophane bag from somewhere underneath it.  

" _This_ is your urgent business."  

There is that twinkle peeking over the edge of Dumbledore's glasses.  "Yes, I've run out of sherbert lemons completely.  And these," he waves with the pink cellophane bag to the jar of pink and white sweets, "are the new raspberry twisters, just out today."  

Severus is sure the appropriate reaction to this situation is to scream or possibly to cast all of the jars of candy onto the floor.  Instead, when Dumbledore finishes loading the raspberry twisters into the pink cellophane bag and hands the bag over to Severus, he just reaches out and takes it, holds it in a grip that is tighter than it warrants.

"Thank you, my dear boy," says Dumbledore, absently, and turns towards another candy jar.  


End file.
